“Hud! What are you doing? Come out of there.”
“No way, Andie. Not until I’m sure they’re gone,” he whispered.
He’d crouched in the cubicle long enough for his folded legs to cramp, giving those horrible creeps ample time to leave the building. He wasn’t a coward, simply trying to avoid further stuff-ups. It would be the peak debacle if Spencer returned, but worse if he got caught by the wraith twins and blew it further for the Trinity. He had to find a way to fix his mistake and retrieve that phone. He’d deliberately stalled, hoping his contrary brain supplied a solution. It seemed Andie and Bickles remained unaware of his lapse.
“Fine! We’ll check the corridor for you and give you the all clear.”
Hud rolled the chair away and crawled out, Spencer’s office muted by fading afternoon light and the tint of the sunglasses he now wore again. Buzz glided past and dropped to the floor by the door, trailing Hud. The tiny robot split apart, dismantling and rapidly reconfiguring itself into four miniscule ants.
His mouth dropped open in awe. “Are you kidding? I chose the wrong majors.”
The ants scurried off in different directions under the crack. Several U-turned a second later. Hud froze as the outer door rammed open and bounced shut. He planted his ear against wood.
“Stay where you are! It’s Spencer and he’s got company.” A high-pitched giggling and some seductive murmurs pierced the timber.
“According to our research, the latest specimen is his secretary. Clearly, she performs tasks other than taking dictation.” Bickles provided the soundtrack to events in the outer room, while Hud listened. “Yep, our boy does more on that desk than pound his keyboard.”
“Hud’s familiar with the basics, Ty. And I think you should monitor the equipment. I’ll do the watching.”
“How come you get to watch and I don’t, Andie?”
“Because she’s young, red-haired and hot and he’s ancient, wrinkled and not. Smarmy wanker looks like he mummified in a solarium. What on earth does she see in him? He’s got to be forty, at least! Do things still function at that age—”
“When you’re ready,” Hud interjected.
“Oh, so that’s why. He’s hung like a mule. Amazing, it definitely still works. Must have popped a carton of Viagra.”
“Do you mind, Andie? You’re not watching either.” Bickles failed to keep the affront from his tone.
Hud rolled his eyes. “You guys are hopeless at this. What’s happening? And feel free to omit descriptions of anatomy.” He changed his mind. “Unless it’s the secretary.”
“Uh-oh!”
Hud caught a shriek and the slamming of a door. A switch clicked and light seeped into Spencer’s office via a jaundiced crack.
“Uh-oh, what?”
“He’s been sprung,” Andie said.
“Man! It’s busier than the uni STD clinic out there.”
“You’d know,” Bickles said.
“Jealousy is unbecoming of you.”
“So’s syphilis.”
Hud suspected the domestic turmoil would play out for hours. He began to fret about the fading chance to recapture his mobile. He couldn’t fathom the repercussions, but bet on the highly negative. There came a furious shuffle, a loud crash, followed by splintering glass and then swearing and insults to shame a roadie, which Hud didn’t require commentary to hear.
“That’s Mrs Sebastian Spencer. Her name’s Whitney. Also attending his execution is the charming Tiffany. Iffy gets her manners from mummy,” Andie said. “Oooh! That handbag’s the size of the QE2. I don’t fancy getting slugged by it.”
“Daddy, how could you? We had premier tickets for Wicked!” Tiffany’s voice was shrill.
“I’ve had it with you, Sebastian. I’m taking you to the cleaners! You’ll be lucky to afford a phone call at the soup kitchen by the time my lawyers have skinned you! You—” A string of foul-mouthed abuse ensued.
“Ouch! Iffy pinned the secretary’s skirt with her heel. Most undignified. She’s grovelling around on all fours in her undies,” Andie said. A volley of banging and crashes reached Hud, the door inadequate to block the tirade.
Snivelling Sebastian added gasoline to the furnace. “It’s not what it looks like, honey. I was helping her find a missing contact lens!”
“WITH YOUR PENIS?”
“For crying out loud,” Hud muttered urgently. “You’ve got to get me out of here. Those psychopaths have my phone. We don’t have time for the soapy Decades of Drama.’”
“What?” Bickles shouted, so loud through ear-buds he eclipsed Whitney. “I asked nicely that you not do anything dumb, for once.”
“A lecture can wait. Get me out of here.”
The argument raged in the next room, interspersed by squeals, implements thrown and another woman’s voice pleading for restraint. Hud heard Andie and Bickles debating about activating something called Bluey to try and track Riven and Rebel.
“I’ve got an idea. Get out your umbrella, Hud the Dud,” Bickles warned.
“I prefer Hud the Stud.”
A second later, the sprinklers burst awake drenching the office space. Doors banged and screeches faded as the Spencer circus made a hasty retreat from the downpour. The lights flickered off.
“You’re a genius.”
“And you’re an undisputed cretin. Get a move on.”
“Make sure they’re gone.” Hud waited until the ant posse returned.
“Poor secretary had to hightail it semi-naked down the fire escape.”
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for her, Ty. There’s no way she didn’t realise he was married. I hope she catches pneumonia or gonorrhoea. She’s a home-wrecker and a thoughtless, greedy leech! Don’t get me started on that Spencer scum. No wonder his daughter is such a warped excuse for a human being.”
Hud sighed, while Buzz reconfigured. He agreed with Andie, but now was not the occasion. He patted a spare pocket and held it open for the bumblebee to climb in. Despite the headbutt, it really was cute.
“No point leaving the little fellow here now. We’ve established beyond doubt our hynies are in the sling and Anathema are too close to the Trinity.”
“The thanks for that fiasco are exclusively yours,” Ty said. “How can anyone mess up delivering flowers?”
Bickles spoke the truth. Hud cautiously made the outer office, more ashamed than ever. He tripped over an upturned chair in the gloom and cursed loudly.
“It’s too dark to see.” The lights flicked back on. “You guys are really efficient.”
The place was a minefield of broken picture frames, ransacked furniture and soggy scattered paperwork. Water trickled into his eyes and the stiff fabric of his uniform rubbed wetly.
“Lucky someone is,” Bickles mumbled. “The sprinklers are on a timer. We can’t turn them off. It will happen automatically.”
Hud glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head at the wreckage. He turned the doorhandle and stepped into the corridor.
“Well, well. What have we here? A little spy. Who are you talking to?”
A low woman’s voice rumbled at his temple, her accent thick. Hud’s throat constricted in fear. A knife rested at his ribcage. His focus slid either side. Flanked by the twins like nightmarish bookends, his sudden manifestation apparently surprised neither. They must have loitered nearby in the building and he wondered how much they’d observed.
“Are you a friend or are you a foe?” the guy asked menacingly. He wrapped Hud in a bear hug, trapping his arms, which forecast their opinion.
“What are you doing?” Hud didn’t need to act to conjure alarm. “I just went back to get my tip. The tight-ass didn’t give me a brass razoo. Let go!”
“So you thought you’d take a souvenir as compensation? A thief into the bargain. Tell me who you were talking to.”
The knife didn’t withdraw. If anything, she pressed it harder, taking a moment to move the fringe flopping her vision. Her face twitched and she shook her head in irritation, as if the water distracted. The tip penetrated the flimsy barrier of his overalls, scoring bare flesh.
“No one! I told you. I’m just pissed off he didn’t pay me. Maybe I muttered out loud. I tripped over and swore.”
Hud infused the babble with an authentic whine, trying to gain more time to sort an exit strategy. The wretched woman draped her free arm about his shoulders like a friend, pulling him close. Her eyes reminded Hud of a shark, cold and detached. His well-tuned survival skills kept him outwardly calm. Unfortunately, the twins were not accustomed to such a reaction and their suspicions amped.
“What do you know about the Spencers? You have one chance. I will detect if you are lying.”
“Look, lady. I’m just the delivery man. Those people are fruitcakes. You’ve only just missed them. If you hurry, you might catch up.”
“Wrong answer.”
The pale-haired fiend pushed the knife in deeper and his flesh sliced in stinging pain. Hud began to panic. This was not white-water rafting or scuba caving.
“He is surely retarded, sister. Where is his fear?”
The guy’s arms shook, his power slackening, only to tighten again when he realised. They really seemed bothered by the water.
Hud poised to capitalise. “I’m telling you! I don’t know anything.”
“Perhaps, he truly knows nothing?”
“He is lying, brother. A flower-boy who neglects his other deliveries is a flower-boy without his job. I feel it,” she purred the last three words and they sounded somehow more lethal than her anger.
“Do not get upset, Rebel. I did not say we should let him live.” Hud couldn’t work out which disturbed more, the sister’s instability or the brother’s utter lack of emotion.
“What are you really doing here, little man? Extortion? Fact-gathering? Kidnapping? Some other swindle?” She blinked and flinched repetitively. Did they have Tourette syndrome? “Are you a private investigator?”
“I’m none of those things. I won’t press charges. I’ll forget I ever saw you!”
“We will help you to forget. I do not like loose ends or little pinpricks who stick their noses where they should not.”
“I’m just doing my job!”
Rebel reached around and clamped Hud’s cheeks, pushing the knife between bones, the pain white-hot. She was head and shoulders taller than him. He stood still, a struggle serving to hasten the blade’s progress. The brother reefed off Hud’s sunglasses and crushed them underfoot. Bugger. If he lived, Andie would probably send him an invoice.
Hud contemplated slipping a hand inside their pockets to extract the phone. At least then they’d be none closer to the Trinity, regardless of his murder. He had photos of Vee on there. Abruptly, the lights cut off. The fire alarm erupted and a red warning light strobed. Hud took his cue.
He exploded in a star-jump. The knife pushed deeper for a second and then released. He wrenched it from her and hurled it as far as possible along the hallway. Spinning to stomp the girl’s foot, he elbowed the guy in the face. For good measure, he punched her hard in the gut, karate chopping her tosser brother in the voice box. She bent to grab her middle with a look of disbelief. It all seemed too easy. He bit his tongue; that’s what he’d said before this disaster.
As far as Hud could tell in the dark, they both simply stood there, too stunned to act. He experienced not a scrap of remorse for hitting a female. Reptiles didn’t count. It had unfolded in a matter of seconds, but still their lack of retaliation was more unsettling than anything he could envisage. He’d expected a fight.
“Cut the Bruce Lee crap, idiot. Run!”
Hud didn’t require a second command from Andie, the stress clear in her voice. Warm moisture spread from the wound in his side, a lancing ache as he sprinted along the corridor towards the lifts, fast footfalls in his wake. They’d obviously recovered. What were they? Weird cyborgs? Hud suspected his injured lung deflated, a fist of heaviness seizing his chest. It became increasingly difficult to suck air. He refused to stumble and kept up the pace, acting on adrenaline alone.
“I’m going to murder you slowly,” she screamed from close behind.
“Hurry! Hurry, Hud. The fire escape on your left at the end,” Andie shouted.
He veered a sharp corner and hurled himself for the barricade, which seemed to stretch into the distance no matter his acceleration. He blinked and attempted to clear his mind, but the faster he travelled the further the door slipped from proximity. Hud didn’t understand. They messed with his perceptions somehow. She sniggered near enough to rustle his hair. It was impossible, totally abnormal she’d caught up that quickly.
They didn’t move like everyone else, shirking the laws of physics. A hand gripped his shoulder, spider fingers gouging. He was done for now, but refused to give in, barging forth to drag her with him. Then the pressure broke and he burst towards the door, no one behind him. It was a trick to make him think he’d been caught and stop. No doubt about it, they were slippery customers.
“No.” She shrieked like a wounded animal as he flung the barrier aside and stepped into nothing.
He fell headlong into a swirling vortex of light and colour. A blinding blast obliterated the scene entirely. Had he lost consciousness due to the haemorrhage? He worried briefly this might be his passage to the afterlife, but he’d never been a believer. And Rebel had promised a slow demise. That was far too believable. She aimed to bury him alive to rot in a box or some torture equally horrible. He would never see the sun again.
“The Keeper must claim the Stone.” A soft voice echoed in Hud’s head. “The Ritual is upon you.”
He rematerialised in a small round room, which gained clarity to become a temple with glittering walls, the shock profound. The pain miraculously disappeared and he could breathe as if never stabbed. He gingerly searched his rib and discovered unblemished skin. The hole in his overalls seemed authentic enough.
Rebel’s prints on his shoulder throbbed. He prayed they couldn’t be traced back here. Andie and Bickles appeared around the perimeter, their candlelit mouths hanging in astonishment to rival his own. Hooded gowns covered their clothes, cowls obscuring upper faces. Other indistinct figures lined the circle. Based on size, he knew one of them was Hugo from Winnie’s mind history of the Trinity back at the lab. Hud counted twelve other people in attendance, several of them mere ghost-filled spaces.
Bickles leaned over, speaking quickly. “Well we’ve confirmed something else beyond doubt, aside from the presence of those homicidal bastards.”
Hud tilted his head and swallowed the bait. “Which is?”
“That madman is an astute judge of character. After knowing you for a nanosecond, he called you a mental defect. I have to say, I agree.”
Andie leaned in. “At least it’s not a total debacle.”
“Er,” Hud grimaced. “That’s an optimistic take on matters.”
“Buzz is riding in that spike-haired harridan’s pocket.”
